Adventures in Advent
by Drunken Boxer
Summary: My efforts towards the TMNT Advent Calendar challenge. Forgive me for being untimely, and for the inconsistent length of chapters. Stars - "Stars are not limited to the balls of gas burning billions of miles away."
1. Snowing

There is nothing quite like the sound of snow falling.

Silence.

Raphael gazes at the New York skyline, stealing a moment of peace as the usual hustle and bustle of the city is oddly muted by the first snowfall of the season. It isn't late, but Christmas shoppers scuttle home to wrap themselves in blankets and warm their cold hands by the fire.

A small step to his right, the gentle sound of crunching snow.

Something cold and wet hits him on the back of the neck, icy water trickling into the crevices of his shell.

Slowly he turns.

Donatello stands unabashedly, holding a second snowball. Wide eyes look at his brother, hopeful, innocent, head tilting in an unasked question. He's always loved the snow.

There is no warning.

Raphael charges at his brother, who shrieks in laughter and tries to throw his second weapon. It splatters harmlessly against Raphael's chest.

Two seconds later, Donatello finds himself face down in the fresh snow.

Donatello laughs as his brother helps him up. Raphael brushes the snow off himself with cold hands. His eyes narrow as he realizes his precious silence has been broken.

Somehow he doesn't mind.


	2. Candy Canes

"Who's been eating the candy canes off the Christmas tree?" Raphael demands as he stalks into the lair's living room.

Donatello looks up from his computer, shrugs, and goes back to what he is doing. Michelangelo doesn't even glance up from his Game Dude. They are accustomed to Raphael's perfectionist rants about Christmas, which grow more and more frequent as his favorite holiday approaches.

"Well?" Raphael presses again. "Mikey?"

"What?" Mike yelps indignantly. "It wasn't me!"

Raph snorts. "Yeah, suuure it wasn't."

Donatello comes to Mikey's rescue, cutting off any smart remark Raphael would have made. "It really wasn't him." Raph's focus shifts to the genius. Donnie continues, "Mikey doesn't even like peppermint."

"I don't," Michelangelo agrees quickly. "It's like eating toothpaste." He grimaces at the mere thought. "Candy is supposed to _rot_ your teeth, not _clean_ them."

"It still does that," Donnie informs him absentmindedly.

"Never mind that," Raphael interrupts. "I spent all morning putting candy canes on the tree, and now over half of them are gone!" The brothers continue to argue, completely unaware of the eldest eavesdropping in on their conversation.

In the shadows, Leonardo chuckles under his peppermint-scented breath.


	3. Mistletoe

Michelangelo whimpers.

"Keep the ice on it, Mikey," Leonardo says patiently, gently pushing the cold pack against Mikey's swollen lip.

"It's cold and my mouth hurts," Michelangelo whines.

"What did you think would happen?" Leo asks, with the slightly exasperated air of an older brother explaining something for the umpteenth time.

Donatello walks into the room, stopping short when he sees Michelangelo's tear-streaked face and Leonardo's protective posture.

"What's going on here?' he questions slowly, taking in the scene. Donnie crosses to the couch and sits on Mikey's other side. "Mike? Are you okay?"

"Hurts," is all Michelangelo says.

"No kidding," Donatello replies lightly. He turns to Leo, hoping for a real explanation.

Without preamble, "He tried to kiss Raph."

Donatello blinks. He isn't expecting that answer. "Want to run that by me again please?" Polite as always.

"He tried to kiss Raph," Leo repeats, slower this time as if Donatello lacks basic listening comprehension skills. "And Raph decked him."

"He was standing under mistletoe!" Michelangelo interjects, feeling the need to justify his actions before his skeptical brothers.

"So you kissed him?" Donatello raises an eye ridge.

"What choice did I have? That's what you're supposed to do when someone stands under mistletoe, isn't it?" Mikey turns to Leo for confirmation.

Leo nods, but before he can say anything, Donnie giggles and says in his high pitched voice that always gives away when he's trying not to laugh, "That's the tradition yes, but you aren't _obligated_ to kiss anyone and everyone who happens to stand underneath the mistletoe!"

Michelangelo's blue eyes grow wide in sudden understanding. Leonardo begins to laugh as well. "Where did we even get mistletoe?" he asks between chuckles.

"Raph put it up in one of his decorating sprees," Mikey mutters, clearly embarrassed by his faux pas.

"And Raph is going to take it down!" Raphael shouts as he strolls into the room. "All you nutballs ruining a perfectly good Christmas decoration…"

Leonardo and Donatello stare at Raphael's cheek. There's a red mark that looks suspiciously like…

"Lipstick, Mikey?" Leonardo frowns at his youngest brother, wondering if they need to have a talk. He ignores his desire to find out where Michelangelo has acquired such a product in favor of asking, "_Why_ were you wearing lipstick and going around kissing whoever was under the mistletoe?"

"How else was I supposed to separate the ones who have been kissed from the ones who haven't? That's how it's done in the movies!"

Leonardo drops his head into his hands while Donatello falls off the couch laughing. Raphael glares at them all and Michelangelo resolves to not believe everything he sees on TV.


	4. Scarves

"Where did you guys get those scarves?" April asks, setting down her bags full of food down on the kitchen table.

"Donatello made them," Leonardo explains as he lovingly twitches his soft blue scarf so it's wrapped more snugly around his neck. "Thought we should try to stay as warm as possible in the winter, so he made us all scarves with matching hats and gloves a few years back."

"Donnie?" says April, surprise shows clearly. "I didn't know he could knit."

"Oh yeah," Michelangelo adds, twirling his own orange scarf deftly in his fingers. "He's a turtle of many talents. Donnie does all sorts of stuff like this: knitting, a bit of crocheting, sewing. He's really good at sewing."

"Really?" April's eyes light up and she begins to ramble excitedly. "I love crafts, sewing especially! Maybe Donnie and I could do something like that together. This place could use some more homemade decorations…or Christmas ornaments! We could crochet ornaments together. It would be so nice to have someone else to crochet with. No offense to the rest of you guys," she says hurriedly, "but you have to admit that you aren't really the crafty type. Maybe I'll bring my sewing kit down tomorrow and we can get on it!"

Leo and Mike stare at her, mouths slightly open.

April finally pauses to take a breath. "How did Donnie get so good at sewing and everything in the first place?" she questions, genuinely curious. "Was it one of your guys' weird ninja cross-training exercises that Master Splinter set you? Learning to find balance in all aspects of your life?"

Leonardo recovers first; his vacant expression becomes serious though his eyes remain gentle. "He's had lots of practice," he starts vaguely.

April doesn't speak, her elation at discovering Donnie's hidden craftiness dissipating. Leo sighs heavily, regretfully.

"He's the one who always had to stitch us up after fights."


	5. Christmas Tree

When the turtles are four years old, Splinter finds their first Christmas tree. It isn't glamorous or elegant, it isn't even a real tree, but it is their first one and they think it's wonderful. The branches are sparse in some places; it stands slightly crooked in the corner. No one cares. Splinter is overjoyed to find such a gift for his sons, and they in turn are beside themselves with excitement. They want to trim the tree themselves so the end result is a surprise for Father. Splinter complies.

The brothers spend hours crafting decorations for their tree, determined to make it as festive as they possibly can. Paper chains, cut-out pictures of angels, snowmen, snowflakes, gingerbread men, any shiny material they can get their little hands on adorned the tree.

Michelangelo draws picture after picture. Donatello carefully cuts them out. Raphael makes a small hole (sometimes a bit too enthusiastically) and loops string through. Leonardo neatly hangs the homemade decorations on the tree. They alternate after a while, when Mikey and Donnie and Raph demand a turn putting the ornaments on their magnificent tree.

Splinter devises a way to string the shiny bits of paper together in strands of imitation tinsel before being pushed back into the kitchen so he can't see the masterpiece that is the Christmas tree. Each holding an end of "tinsel", Raphael and Michelangelo run in opposite circles around the tree, joyful laughter filling their home. Leonardo and Donatello meticulously wind their string in the branches, filling the gaps left by their brothers' haphazard method.

Finally they deem the tree worthy and call their father back into the room. Four expectant faces gaze up at Splinter as he takes in the sight.

A quickly stifled laugh; he has never seen such a densely trimmed Christmas tree. But even more amusing: only the bottom two feet of the tree are decorated. As the tallest, Leonardo has clearly done his best to reach as high as he can, but the upper three feet remain bare. His sons eagerly gather around him, awaiting the verdict.

"It is the most beautiful Christmas tree I have ever seen," he says with utmost sincerity.

A tradition is born that year. Splinter drinks tea and relaxes while his sons put up ornaments on the tree. Slowly the undecorated area shrinks and then disappears completely as new heights are reached. But one thing remains the same: Splinter always says this year's tree is the most beautiful he has ever seen. And it's true. Each tree represents a successful year of life together, and he can't imagine anything more beautiful than that.


	6. Eggnog

_"I want a Red Ryder carbine action two-hundred shot range model air rifle."_

"He said it again, that's another shot!" Michelangelo crowed, sliding a shot glass full of eggnog to Raphael.

"Why's this kid so determined to shoot his eye out?" Raphael asked, speech slightly slurred as he reached for his eggnog.

"He doesn't want to shoot his eye out," Mikey corrected, totally entranced by the film. "He just wants a BB gun."

_"I want a Red Ryder carbine action two-hundred shot range model air rifle."_

"And again!" Mikey gleefully tossed his own shot back, seemingly oblivious to the liberal amounts of brandy Raphael had mixed in when they first began their drinking game.

Raphael pulled a face but stayed silent, not wanting Michelangelo to know that the eggnog was getting to him, not when Mikey was so unaffected. Raphael picked up his shot on the second try – the darn thing just wouldn't stay still – and downed it quickly.

He was regretting challenging Mikey to this festive drinking game. The classic holiday line _"I want a Red Ryder carbine action two-hundred shot range model air rifle"_ was used twenty-eight times in the movie, more than enough times to get a little tipsy, but what Raphael hadn't anticipated was his baby brother's apparently limitless alcohol tolerance. Raphael thought he could drink a decent amount – Casey had introduced him to beer when he was just shy of seventeen afterall – but somehow Mikey could hold his own against his brother.

He simply couldn't understand how Michelangelo was still sober; he was the shortest and slimmest of the brothers, so logically he would at least feel some effects of the alcohol, but if he was he was doing an incredible job of hiding it.

Lost in his thoughts, Raphael hadn't realized the shots piling up in front of him. He looked down to see three more on the table. Mikey was already licking off his foam mustache.

He let out a blustery sigh and gamely tossed back the drinks.

"I think," he started slowly, vision swimming a bit, "that I might be done…"

"What?" Michelangelo asked, startled. "But there's still like thirty minutes left! You can't cop out now. Besides, we have so much more eggnog to drink!"

"Mike, there are some things you just gotta learn in life, and knowing when to quit a drinking game is one of 'em," Raphael hiccupped, eyes sliding shut. "You win, you little alcoholic." He slumped over on the couch, snoring loudly.

Michelangelo chuckled, finally allowing himself to show the effects of the eggnog. He burped contentedly and curled up on the other side of the couch. "I'm not an alcoholic," he mumbled as he drifted off. "Alcoholics go to meetings. I'm a drunk."

* * *

Thank you all for your very kind and encouraging reviews! I'm glad this little set of ficlets is bringing you joy this holiday season!


	7. Family

_'Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the lair, the turtles were eating, which forced Splinter to pick food out of his hair._

The old rat sighed, plucking yet another glob of pasta sauce out of his whiskers. His young family was understandably excited about Christmas being on the horizon, but that didn't stop him from wishing they would be a little more…civilized when they ate.

"Donatello! We eat our spaghetti with a fork, NOT our hands." Donatello froze and looked up with his hands wrist-deep in his plate.

He swallowed his mouthful hastily, and muttered a quick, "Sorry Sensei." He wiped his hands messily on his napkin and rather clumsily picked up his completely clean utensil.

Satisfied that Donatello would at least attempt to eat neatly, Splinter turned his attention to his eldest son, who was dueling with his brother using their breadsticks. He winced as a chunk of garlic very nearly hit him in the eye. "Boys," he said sternly, "either eat your food or put it down, but do not waste it."

Raphael promptly stuffed his entire breadstick in his mouth. Leonardo tried, but couldn't quite manage it and sat with the end sticking out the side of his mouth as he chewed. Splinter fought down the urge to laugh at his sons. The appalling table manners he could handle. With four energetic sons, it was rare to go through a meal without fights breaking out and he was trying to appreciate the relative calm in light of the holiday season.

The fatherly rat suddenly realized he hadn't heard from his youngest in some time. He gazed around the table, taking in Leonardo still chewing, Raphael drinking large amounts of soda to wash down his breadstick, and Donatello putting spaghetti on his fork with his hands before moving the tool to his mouth. Michelangelo, however, was lying with his face down in his plate, snoring gently.

Splinter smiled. His youngest son had been working tirelessly making and decorating cookies for their family celebration the next day. Combine his efforts with the trouble he had sleeping when he was excited and the result was one sleepy little turtle.

He reached over and gently lifted his son's face out of the food before wiping the sauce off Michelangelo's cheek. "My sons," he began, "when you have finished eating, I think it would be best if you helped Michelangelo to bed and then go to sleep. Otherwise Father Christmas will not visit us tonight."

Splinter watched as his sons' eyes widened comically. They quickly cleaned up their mess (well, as best as they could manage) and between the three of them managed to carry Michelangelo to his room. Soon after, three more doors shut firmly.

Splinter chuckled, appreciating the sudden calm that descended on the lair. His teenage boys kept him constantly on his toes, their home usually looked like it had recently been hit by a tornado, and peace and quiet was hard to come by, but he wouldn't change his family for the world.

* * *

I'm not very pleased with this ficlet. There's so much potential with this word, but I'm so far behind that I felt the need to churn out a chapter just so I have a _chance_ of catching up one day. Thanks for your reviews! They keep me writing.


	8. Presents

Donatello was the worst turtle to buy presents for: anything he wanted was very specific or had to be built (which could only be done by himself, of course), and anything his brothers got him he always correctly guessed before Christmas. It drove everyone a bit batty.

This year, his brothers decided they would hold a little contest, a side quest as Michelangelo liked to call it. The goal was simple: to give Donatello a gift he would enjoy, but couldn't guess. The winner was rewarded with the knowledge that he was able to pull one over Donnie (Leonardo's virtuous prize), one "Get Out of Being Hit" card (courtesy of Raphael), and one dozen peanut butter chocolate chip cookies (homemade by Michelangelo, naturally). Each turtle had offered one prize so they would each have an incentive for winning.

Unbeknownst to Donatello, the others worked very hard to find the perfect, unexpected present for their dear brother.

When Christmas morning rolled around, the family sat around the tree, joyfully sipping at the peppermint hot chocolate (or regular but with lots of marshmallows in Michelangelo's case), stealing a moment of peace before the carnage that was opening presents began.

Michelangelo was hardly able to contain himself. He shot a glance at Master Splinter, who eyed him sternly for a moment before breaking into a gentle smile and nodding his approval.

"Yes!" Mikey whooped, bolting to his feet and towards the tree. His brothers just laughed, accustomed to their youngest brother's overenthusiastic approach to his favorite holiday.

"Who's first this year?" Leonardo asked innocently.

"Well," Raphael cut in before Mikey could open his mouth, "I was first last year, so that makes this year Donnie's turn."

Donatello's entire face lit up.

"Here," Leo said, handing Donnie a neatly wrapped box with a purple bow on top to start off the carnage.

Donatello accepted the gift with a quiet, "Thanks" and began to examine the package carefully. He shook it gently, listening to the sound it make, turned it over in his hands to feel the weight. His brothers held their breaths; Donnie did this every year, and it never ceased to amaze (and somewhat irritate) them.

"Jedi bathrobe?" Donnie guessed, looking intently at his oldest brother.

Leonardo's jaw fell open. "How do you _do_ that?" Raphael and Michelangelo slapped a subtle high five.

Donatello grinned and shrugged before destroying the wrapping paper and tugging on his new bathrobe. "These are not the droids you are looking for," he said in an accent that wasn't quite right but nevertheless elicited giggles from everyone.

Michelangelo beamed and slapped a hand on Donnie's shoulder. "Amazing bro."

"Thanks Leo. I like it a lot." Leonardo simply smiled.

"Mine next," Raphael broke in. He tossed Donatello a rather heavy parcel, tied with a cheery red bow. Donatello repeated his process.

"Grow your own coffee kit…and a screwdriver? One with changeable magnetic tips?"

Raph's face fell, but soon lifted again as he digested his brother's incredible reasoning and/or guessing skills. "Thought I got you with the two different things, Don," he said with a chuckle. "Guess I should know better by now."

"Thank you Raph. They're both very thoughtful presents."

"Mine! Mine!" Mikey cried, thrusting a large, rather garishly concealed box into his brother's already full hands.

"Whoa there," Donnie said with a laugh, carefully putting his gifts on the table. He gave a nudge of thanks to Mikey, who was now sitting curled up next to him on the couch.

He turned the box over in his hands, over and over and over. Then, something that hadn't happened since they were eight happened: Donatello frowned. He repeated his examination, but didn't seem to glean any new information.

"_Avengers_ action figure collection?" He sounded far more doubtful than usual.

Michelangelo's eyes went wide. "Open it!" he urged, his face breaking into a huge smile.

Donatello did, and revealed yet another box. He blinked, looking at Mikey in partial confusion.

"Again?"

"Again."

Donnie opened one, two, three, four more boxes before finally getting to one that rattled when he shook it.

"Want another guess?" Mikey offered graciously.

"Dungeons and Dragons dice?" Again, not confident at all.

"Open it."

Inside were four small clay turtles, each with a differently colored bandana, and a clay rat. They were sitting on a small piece of folded white paper. It was clear that Michelangelo had put a lot of time and effort into making the little figures for his brother.

Gentle smiles appeared on each of his family member's faces. Donnie's eyes were soft as he turned to his baby brother. "Thank you Mikey," he said quietly. "These are _wonderful_."

"Aw shucks Don," Michelangelo said, rubbing the back of his neck, "glad you like 'em"

Both Leo and Raph had to hand it to their little brother; he had outdone them both with his creative, handmade present. They went together to pick up the next round of gifts from under the tree.

While they were distracted, Mikey leaned close to his brother and whispered, "Thanks for not guessing as well as you could have. Half the cookies will be in the lab later." Donatello chuckled under his breath. He did love peanut butter chocolate chip cookies. He quieted when Mikey continued, "Read the paper when you're alone."

Donnie cocked his head to look at his little brother, who had already been distracted by the presents placed in front of him. As Mikey pulled a box onto his lap, intent on ripping the paper to shreds, Donatello shifted to place a quick kiss on Michelangelo's forehead. "Merry Christmas Mikey."

* * *

Apologies for being _so ridiculously behind_, but eventually, _eventually_ this will get done. And please note that this chapter is intended to be brotherly love only, anything more is just a figment of your imagination. Cheers guys! Have a very blessed Christmas!


	9. Stars

A lone turtle stands on the edge of a rooftop, his gaze tilted upwards. It is chilly, but not unbearable. He warps his scarf around his neck tighter.

"Hey Raph." A second turtle appears, silent as usual. "Watcha doin' up here?"

The first turtle grunts, "Star gazing."

Donatello glances up. "Not much to see, is there?"

"_Au contraire_, dear brother of mine," a third turtle interrupts. "Stars are not limited to the _balls of gas_burning billions of miles away."

"You stole that line from _The Lion King_," the final turtle arrives, nudging Michelangelo lightly.

"So what if I did?" Michelangelo retorts.

"Never mind that," Donatello interjects. "Explain what you said."

"Raph gets it, don't you?" he presses.

Raphael pauses, pondering carefully. He nods slowly. "I do, Mikey."

Without another word, Michelangelo steps to the edge of the rooftop with his brother. He gently takes his hand. Raphael allows it because it's Christmas after all.

Something clicks for Leonardo. He joins his brothers, slipping his hand into Raphael's other one. Raphael twitches in surprise, but does not pull away.

Donatello remains behind them, frowning as he tries to understand the enigmatic, scientifically incorrect statement.

Michelangelo twists around. "Come here Donnie," he says with a jerk of his head. "You'll get it eventually."

Donatello somewhat reluctantly strolls to the edge of the rooftop. Michelangelo's hand automatically snakes down to find and grasp his own. Donatello grips it back.

Together the four brothers gaze at their beautiful city, peaceful in this holiday season, the lights shining like stars in the sky.

* * *

Cheers for the holiday reviews! And a very blessed Christmas to you all!


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